The Risk Series 7: Risk from the Past
by KSPretenderFan
Summary: Someone from Zoe's past has re-emerged, what will it mean for Zoe and John? Part 7 of the Risk Series
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own Person of Interest. Written for enjoyment purposes only. _

_AN: It is unclear how old Zoe really is in the show. In real life Page Turco is 47, but I'm making her a tad younger as Zoe. I'm putting her at around early-40'ish for the purpose of my series of fics. Thanks to those who are still reading._

_AN2: Thanks to those faithful readers of this series! Please Read and Review. Let me know if there is something you would love to see these two get into. . . _

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Ethan Cummings made his way through the busy streets, walking rapidly and silently, glancing over his shoulder almost as often as he looked ahead. Although he moved unobtrusively, efficiently, and evenly, his heart beat rapidly in his chest as adrenaline coursed through him. He wove his way around buildings, ducking between cars and people and finally slipping into an alley. The smell of day old Chinese food and rotting trash permeated the air but hardly registered; all he could see were two men following him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the muzzle of a gun, that's when he broke out into a full on sprint. The two men gave chase as Ethan's feet pounded against the street. Relief ran through him when he encountered a crowd into which he could disappear.

Ethan lost himself in the crowd, people and noise swirling around him, as he quickly made his way into another alley, towards his rental car. He seemed to be outmaneuvering his pursuers as he almost made it to his rental car. All Ethan could hear was his heart beating, keeping time with the heavy footfalls gaining on him. He momentarily panicked when he distinctly heard feet pounding from two different directions. He felt a thud as he was tackled to the ground; then heard the distinctive pop, pop, of multiple guns being shot. The weight on top of him shifted as he heard two more pops.

"What the hell," Ethan exclaimed as he realized that his pursuers were temporarily immobilized. He looked at the man who tackled him. The man was an inch or two over six feet, dark hair, piercing blue eyes and the posture of a trained assassin. He had a thought that this might be it for him.

"My name is John. I'm here to help you," the man said as he started to lead Ethan away from the alley and out towards the busy street.

* * *

"Mr. Reese, are you heading to the safe house with Mr. Cummings?" Finch asked through the ear bud.

"Yes, I need you to dig deeper into Mr. Cummings. I have a feeling he isn't what we thought he was."

"What makes you say that?"

"He pulled a gun on me after I took care of the problem. The way he carries himself isn't just Executive VP of an investment company material. I'm thinking Ethan Cummings is a cover of some sort. Check your law enforcement databases, police, FBI, CIA, DEA. I don't think he's military, but if you strike out on the law enforcement databases, you can check military."

"How did you convince him to go with you?" Finch queried.

"With great difficulty . . ." John looked over at the now unconscious Ethan Cummings. John may have been a little overzealous in disarming Ethan Cummings; overzealous enough that he rendered him unconscious with a knee to the head. John didn't like it when he is on the other end of a gun.

"I'll get back to you Mr. Reese."

* * *

Opening the door slowly, John looked inside. He found Ethan sitting up on the edge of the bed. His eyes snapped up to John's when he sensed someone else in the room and gave him an icy glare.

"John," the man stated his voice low and almost menacing. "What the hell is this?" Ethan stated as he shook his handcuffed wrist; the other end of the handcuff was attached to the headboard.

"It was the only way I could get you to the safe house," John stated as he stepped closer.

"Where's my gun?" Ethan demanded.

"You don't need it. We're safe enough here. Whoever was coming after you won't find this place."

"And where, exactly, is here?" Ethan sighed.

"We're at a safe house." John repeated.

Finch's voice interrupted, "Mr. Reese, Ethan Cummings used to be Evan West. As far as I can tell, he used to be a DEA Agent based out of Florida. Fifteen years ago, he ceased to be Evan West and re-emerged as Ethan Cummings. I have confirmed that he is here to pick up his eight-year old son Jacob. Jacob's mother passed away two months ago. Ethan Cummings was divorced from Janice in oh-seven. She moved to New York last year. The little boy is with neighbors, Arthur and Leah Peterson, until Mr. Cummings can come get him. That is all I have right now. I'll keep searching. In the meantime, try to get him to talk."

"Easier said than done, Finch," John replied as he flicked his ear bud off.

"Who the hell are you talking to . . . an imaginary friend?" Ethan or rather Evan West asked. Funny, John thought, Zoe used to call Finch his imaginary friend.

"My partner, DEA agents have partners too don't they Evan?"

"I'm here to pick up my son, that's it. Once I get him, I'll be able to take him back home with me," Evan said, evading the question.

"We know that you used to be a DEA agent, and fifteen years ago, you died and became Ethan Cummings. We know that as Ethan Cummings you lived the rest of your life as an investment executive, married then divorced Janice your wife who recently passed. Those men wanted you dead. You don't have time to deny who you were. You need to figure this out before your son is put in danger."

Evan sighed. "In my messenger bag, there's an envelope that has the information I kept when I left the DEA. I don't even know why I brought it with me. I just kept thinking there was something I was missing."

John walked to Evan's bag and pulled out a large envelope. He took out a several photos and flipped through them, some were what appeared to be official police forensic photos, and the others looked like regular snap shots. The commonality between the photos though was unmistakable. All the dead victims were young men and women in their early to late teens. Some of them looked younger. Each had drug paraphernalia scattered by their bodies.

"The man responsible for those . . ." he said as he held up the pictures of the dead teens. ". . . is Aldo Sandoval. He has ties to the Moreno drug Cartel out of Columbia. I had infiltrated the group they had working out of SouthBeach. In ninety-six I was sent with Sandoval here, but no matter what I did, I could never get any further than I started. It always seemed as if there was someone else involved. Someone I couldn't get to, someone untouchable. And then just like that, my cover was blown."

John nodded. "I know someone that can help us. She knows this city inside and out."

* * *

Zoe walked into her apartment glad to have another day behind her. She had had one unusually hectic and stressful day and was looking forward to some peace and quite. She remembered when she first moved into this particular apartment. Her hard work had finally paid off and she had been able to afford this modest yet homey apartment all on her own. It felt liberating to be able to pay cash and not have a mortgage hanging over her head. This was her refuge; her place away from the day to day grind.

Kicking off her heels, she went to the kitchen to pour herself a drink. As she fiddled with the beads on her necklace with one hand and the drink in the other, she settled onto the couch and tried as best she could to relax.

Taking a sip of scotch, she chided herself silently. She could never truly let her guard down. As much as she tried, she did not like leaving herself vulnerable for others to take advantage of. For the longest time, she hid behind this façade of ice and control. No one knew or saw who she was or what she was made of. And that was the way she liked it, until . . . John.

John with his quiet ways and intense stare worked his magic on her. Zoe wasn't an easy person to get to know and neither was John. In spite of that he had wormed his way into her once flash frozen heart. She knew without a doubt that there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for her. And she felt the same way about him. She would do anything if he asked her to. And oddly enough, instead of scaring her, it made her smile.

For the first time in a very long time, Zoe felt happy and content. So why did she have this feeling of impending upheaval? She hadn't been able to shake the feeling and it in fact intensified day by day.

The shrill of her cell phone interrupted her thoughts. She smiled as she looked at the display.

She answered her phone with a voice worthy of any 900 number. "Well hello lover, would you care to play some truth or dare?"

At the half coughed, half snorted response, Zoe laughed.

"Zoe," John said patiently as he finally recovered from her unexpected greeting.

"Let me guess, you need me to be ready in five minutes so you can ravish me at your leisure."

Silence and a sigh was the only response she received.

"No? How about, let me know where you are and you be ready in five minutes and I can ravish you at my leisure?"

"Zoe, I'm working," was his strangled response.

"Oh fine. I guess you need me for something and by the sound of it, it's not going to be any fun," she said as she play-pouted. Then realized it was wasted when he couldn't see her.

"I need your help with some information . . ."

The time to play was over. Zoe Morgan switched gears to fixer mode. "Fine, do you want to meet at the same bar that you and Maxine met me at a few months ago?"

"No, we need to be even more discreet than that. . ."

Zoe clicked off the phone. As she put her shoes back on the sense of impending upheaval returned in full force.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

"Stay behind me," John said as Evan slid out of the car and scanned the rows of parked cars. The incandescent lights on the ceiling of the parking garage cast an artificial glow of light and shadows. Feeling the ache in his muscles, fatigue had finally settled in. He was getting too old to be chasing drug lords and their thugs through jungles, desserts, and cities. _Oh that's right, I'm not doing that anymore, not for fifteen years._

Not that he would get any rest soon. Shrugging his shoulders, he hoped to relax a bit but it was futile. His eyes were constantly moving as a sense of warning settled at the base of his neck. Over to the dark corners, his eyes shifted, but saw nothing. After many hours without sleep, anyone might be paranoid. But paranoia kept him alive in his line of work. Pulling his gun from the paddle holster at his back, he settled it at his side. He noticed that John did the same.

Heels clicked on the cement floor several feet from them. Fingers tightened on the trigger of his gun as he silently swore.

"John," a woman called out.

Evan saw a woman step out of the shadows and into the light. She wore a simple classic black sheath dress that hugged every dip and curve of her slender form. The length of the dress accentuated strong shapely legs, the kind men lauded and women coveted. Thick, dark chestnut hair, hung halfway down her back emphasized her high cheekbones and the strong yet feminine slope of her jaw.

_Damn_. Evan thought, the breath having whooshed out of his lungs. _She hasn't changed._ She still looked professional, classy, and damn appealing.

"Zoe," John replied.

"So, who's this friend that needs my . . . " Zoe's voice trailed off as she finally got a glimpse of John's new charge.

Silence followed as she tried to get over her shock of seeing who John was to protect this time.

"Evan?" she whispered, breathless as if she she'd been sucker punched.

"Zoe. It's been awhile . . ." Evan replied.

"But . . . what . . . you're dead," Zoe continued, as if Evan hadn't said anything.

"The straight hair's new." Evan replied as he thumbed the safety of his gun and put it behind his back.

Still too shocked to respond, she just stared at Evan. And, in a move worthy of a defensive tackle, she raced to Evan taking both Evan and John off guard. "You let me think you were dead!" she shouted. She planted both hands against his chest and shoved him. "You bastard, how could you do that to me?"

It took Evan a moment to recover from her shove. It was a moment too late as she balled up her right hand and threw a punch following through with every measly pound of weight she had. She landed a right hook on his jaw with a clear snap. Evan staggered back, losing his balance then landed at John's feet as Zoe pulled her hand back, shaking it and then cradling in against her chest. "God damn it, I broke a nail."

Evan was favoring his chin when he responded, as he slowly made it back to his feet. "I had no choice."

John quickly tried to subdue her by wrapping his arms around her, holding her back as she appeared to lunge for Evan again. "No choice?" She gasped. "Everyone has a choice and for fifteen years you were dead! Why would you do this?"

"Zoe, please, you have to calm down." John continued to hold Zoe, to calm her down. At least enough to let him know what the hell was going on. There was obviously a history between Evan and Zoe, much more. This was the Evan she had spoken of, the Evan who had disappeared then later she discovered he had died.

"How? I did it to save your life," Evan said. He hated the lies he had told her, but it had been necessary. "Do you think it was easy for me, to lie to you, to give up my life, to give you up?"

"Let go of me, John," Zoe said as John took his arms from around her, Zoe turned and started to walk away.

"At least let me explain," Evan followed her. "Your life was in danger because of your connection to me. I did the only thing I could. I went away."

"To disappear without a word, Evan, that was just cruel," Zoe said in disbelief and anger.

"I didn't want to needlessly scare you, Zoe. I had already figured out a solution. If they thought they had killed me, then they wouldn't come after you especially if . . ."

"If I didn't know you worked for the DEA?" She asked a challenge for him to deny it in her eyes.

Sighing, he asked, "How did you find out?"

"A little birdie told me . . . " Zoe replied vaguely through gritted teeth. Zoe stepped up to Evan, intentionally invading his personal space. "You solved the problem," she said as her hands fisted in anger, fury evident in her face. "So, you decided to make the decision for me?"

When he didn't respond, Zoe continued. "You didn't tell me the truth; why? Didn't you think I had a right to decide how _I _wanted to deal with the possible threat to _my_ life?"

"It had nothing to with you, Zoe –"

"Excuse me? Nothing to do with me? Of all the egotistical, brainless –"

"I saved your life, damn it!"

"You broke my heart, damn it!" Zoe shot back, tamping down her sentimental thoughts with merciless efficiency. Her world had changed significantly since they last saw each other. Her life changed irrevocably. Like a switch had been thrown and could never be switched back. And Evan was nowhere around when she had needed him.

Silence engulfed them. Tears threatened, but Zoe refused to give in. "And when you did that, Evan, it changed my life, everything I thought I wanted changed because you didn't trust me."

"I chose to do the right thing, Zoe. Whether you choose to believe it or not."

Zoe sighed, and said. "That's just it, Evan. You made the choice and left me with none." Zoe shook her head, suddenly exhausted.

Evan frowned, but didn't reply. There didn't seem anything left for him to say.

"Let's just get this over with. What could the DEA possibly need from me?"

"This would be so much easier if it was official business, but it's not for the DEA. I haven't worked for them for fifteen years. I need your help, on a personal matter."

"My help?" She asked him skeptically, looking at John for confirmation. He gave her a slight nod.

Evan was never the type to need anyone, so the request, she was sure, came at a high price. He had helped himself to whatever he needed. But apparently this time, his hands were tied. As he was reaching into the car for his file on Sandoval, he filled her in on what almost happened that morning.

"I was lucky enough that John, got there in time," Evan said as he motioned to John.

Zoe's concerned gaze went straight to John. "You don't have any wounds you haven't tended to yet have you?"

"I'm fine Zoe," John reassured her.

Her eyes shifted to the file folder for a moment, before shifting back to Evan. "I'll check it out."

Evan nodded.

She looked at John and asked. "Has Harold tried to find anything out?"

"He has the basics, but he's having a difficult time finding anything more, not a whole lot digitally available. Evan thinks there is someone in the shadows, someone untouchable. And you know what that means."

She nodded. "Someone with a lot to lose, someone powerful with secrets . . ."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: **

**September 1997**

"Are you sure this is what you want to do Zoe?" Anderson Tucker, managing partner of Gage, Tucker, and Neil asked.

Zoe Morgan had just packed up her cubicle at the law office. After a year of being an intern with the law firm, it was time to say goodbye. The fall semester of law school was about to begin, and she had just handed in her resignation.

"Yes Mr. Tucker, I think it's the prudent option for me right now," Zoe said regretfully.

"Damn it, Zoe, you're throwing away a chance in a lifetime here. Do you realize how competitive it is to get an associate position in this firm? If you continue this year as an intern, it is almost guaranteed that you will be a first year associate with us next year. My goodness, you are the only Two-L in the history of this law firm that we have ever hired as an intern and extended an offer to as a Three-L." Anderson Tucker was glad that she had the smarts to shut his door when she came in because he realized that his voice was getting louder the more he talked.

"Mr. Tucker, I appreciate the opportunities that Gage and Tucker has afforded me, honestly, I do. But I have . . . responsibilities now that I can't turn my back on," she begged her mentor, for that was what Anderson Tucker was to her. He had taken her under his wing when she started as an intern and had guided her well.

"This is killing me Zoe. You are top of your class at Columbia, you're in Law Review, and all your professors speak highly of you. There are reasons and there are REASONS. Tell me how I can help you. You leaving the firm will be such a waste. You have such potential and I know you will be good at this."

"Please, Mr. Tucker, you aren't making this easy . . . "

"Is it time? Is there just too many hours you're responsible for billing and it's too much? I know how tough the last year of law school is. We can work on that, maybe your hours can be modified."

"Mr. Tucker, it's not the time. And I'm not going back to law school anyway."

"What? Why the hell not? Is it because of Evan's disappearance?"

"Evan's disappearance is one of the reasons, but not the only reason for my decision. I just really need to take care of some personal things and I'm sorry I can't be more specific. I just need to have a more flexible work schedule."

With a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart, Anderson Tucker gave Zoe his card. "You can always call me Zoe, day or night, if you need anything. And, I have an idea of how you can put that mind of yours to work on a flexible work schedule. Call me."

"Thank you."

* * *

**2012**

She entered the modest studio apartment close to ColumbiaUniversity to find Sarah Ann furiously typing away on her laptop. Nonchalantly, she walked up next to the girl, turned and leaned against the desk.

Sarah Ann was a graduate student at Columbia who should be working for Google or Microsoft or Harold for that matter, but was content to just hang around the university until she finished her degrees or picked a new one. She spent her free time honing her hacking skills while she coasted through her classes.

Sarah Ann glanced up and gave her a toothy smile.

"What's up, Z?"

Zoe leaned in and handed Sarah Ann Aldo Sandoval's profile. "I need you to do what you do best. Find out anything and everything. Focus on known associates, no matter how small. Someone is lurking in the shadows and doesn't want to be found out. Try to find what you can digitally, although I've heard there isn't a lot. If you need to run around, call Slip and he'll keep you company. I don't need to tell you to be careful do I? "

"Oh come on Z. Have I ever gotten even my hand slapped," the girl asked rhetorically.

"Call me or send me whatever you get munchkin," Zoe said teasingly.

"Munchkin? Hey, I'm like half foot taller then you and I'm not that little kid taking classical ballet anymore. Thank God," Sarah Ann had been a one time student of Maggie's at the dance studio. When it was clear that Sarah Ann didn't have the interest or the drive to become a prima ballerina, she turned her attention to computers. There was also fact that she was too tall, the last time they checked, she was right at about six-foot.

With a wave of her hand, Zoe left the studio and decided to walk for a bit. Zoe shuddered. Evan West had disappeared from her life fifteen years ago; she had mourned him even though she had hated that he had lied to her about who he really was. God, she had thought she had put this whole thing behind her, yet his appearance tonight, with John, nonetheless, made way for much confusion.

She had met Evan at a coffee shop, the spring of her second year of law school. They had bumped into each other, spilled each other's coffee, and the rest, as they say was history. Though instantly attracted, Zoe was reserved in the beginning. She had been smitten with him, fascinated that not only was he smart and successful, but that he was physically attractive as well; the whole package.

Her life up until she met Evan was always about ambition and success. She worked hard to get to where she was, fighting and clawing her way to an admission to Columbia and then into LawSchool, with one goal in mind. To be the best, and she was; top of her class, Law Review, internship with one of the premier law firms in New York.

But of course she couldn't deny the appeal of a man that was confident, successful, not easily intimidated and could certainly hold his own with her. They began seeing each other, casually, and only on the weekends when he was in town. As a pharmaceutical rep, he traveled during the week. And long hours at the law firm, law school, and teaching at Maggie Wilson's dance studio didn't leave her much time for socializing during the week. Although he knew that she was a law student and was an intern for a law firm, he never asked much about what she did. Because their time together was limited, they had other things on their minds.

So for six months in the spring and summer of 1997 Zoe was on top of the world. Almost having it all, in her eyes, an internship that could turn into a job she loved, success, and a plan for the future with someone she loved. What more could she ask for? Unfortunately, her dreams were never meant to be; her happily ever after was built on lies and deceit.

* * *

**February 1998**

Zoe shifted her grocery bag to her left arm as she fumbled in her purse for her keys; arriving home later than she'd planned. She unlocked her apartment and pushed the door open with her foot, stumbling as her toe caught on the welcome mat inside. Muttering a curse, she kicked the door shut behind her and took a half step forward before she realized what came into focus in the dim afternoon light that filtered into her apartment.

The soft cushions of the couch had been ripped apart and tossed on the floor. Picture frames torn from the wall and taken apart. Her desk drawers had been pulled out and dismantled.

Her pulse scarcely had time to speed up when a voice right behind her said, "You're late Miss Morgan."

The sound of the deep, rumbling male voice and its close proximity put her into complete panic mode. Her keys fell from her deadened fingers with a clang; her groceries forgotten.

"I apologize for the disarray. I got bored waiting for you." The man had an accent, Boston?

"What do you want," she asked.

"Please don't move Miss Morgan," the man behind her said. "We don't want things to escalate."

_Escalate to what - me letting my bladder go? I haven't had control of my bladder for months._

The man behind her held something cold and hard against the back of her neck. Zoe didn't need to see it to know that it was a gun. "Your boyfriend took something that doesn't belong to him. I was sent to get it back."

"Evan's been missing for six months. He had his own apartment I don't know what happened to his things." Her answer rang true, Evan had had his own place but they spent most of the time in her apartment. When she tried to visit his apartment after he had been missing for awhile, she had found that it had already been cleared out and rented to someone else. "Whatever I have left of his is in a box in my closet."

"Did he have any safety deposit boxes or a storage unit?"

"I don't know. He was in pharmaceutical sales, what could he have possibly taken from you," she answered.

The man surprised her by laughing. "Is that what he told you? That he was a salesman and that he traveled a lot?"

At her nod, the man laughed again. "Oh, those DEA guys are really getting too predictable. And you know what? He's not missing. I put three bullets into him myself."

By now Zoe and the man were in the middle of the living room of her small apartment. The doorway was clear. _This is my only chance_, she thought as she elbowed him in the stomach and tried to make a break for it. But the man was too quick. He caught up with her just as she was to the doorway and grabbed her from behind.

"Ah-ah-ah Miss Morgan; that was a bad move," the man said as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back. "Well, well, well, what do we have here?"

* * *

**2012 **

Zoe's eyes snapped open, her breath coming in short gasps as if she couldn't breathe. Quickly lurching upright, she fought desperately to control her breathing but to no avail. The tightness in her chest persisted, her ears were ringing. After several more deep breaths, she realized that the ringing wasn't in her ears; it was the familiar sound of her cell phone.

"Zoe Morgan," she answered still breathless and half asleep. Picking up the clock by the nightstand, she noted that it was two am. Even though she went to sleep unusually early the evening before, the nightmare had made it so that she didn't feel as if she had gotten any sleep at all.

"Are you alright?" a voice like gravel, husky and raw asked.

"I've had better days, and thank you for calling at this ungodly hour," Zoe snapped.

She heard a sigh come through the phone. That sigh told her everything; that his patience was never-ending, his concern for her was real, and his understanding absolute like no one else had or would be. He knew her true self and understood that she was hurting and her protective walls were coming up. She had become adept at feigning anger and indifference when she was hurt.

"What is it with you men? Is this chronic need to protect us women tied to your penis?" It was meant as a rhetorical question and didn't need a response from him. He knew that, so he kept mum. She just needed to vent.

"Do you want to talk about it," John asked.

"Six months. We were together for six months and I never knew what he really did. He must have been good at his job, because I had no clue. Not one, John that he wasn't who he said he was."

"When you're undercover, you become someone else." John should know, he had done it many times before.

"Clearly, you do. But we made plans. He acted as though we had a future together. How am I supposed to deal with this ghost from the past?" Zoe asked. John suspected that it was another rhetorical question so he kept mum again. He wasn't the one to counsel her on how to deal with past ghosts. He wasn't sure how to himself.

"How did you find out who he worked for?" It was a question that had bothered him. Since she wasn't married to Evan, he doubted that the DEA would have informed her of his death.

"It's not important, I just found out," Zoe replied curtly.

Realizing that a change in topic was necessary, John asked. "You seem to have assumed some questionable sleep patterns . . . nightmare?" Concern was evident in his voice.

"Yes."

"What was it about?"

"I don't remember," she lied. It was something from her past she never wanted to revisit. "I just wake up and I'm panicked, I can't breathe."

"You don't seem to have them often," John said thinking that his nightmares never seemed to arise when they slept together.

"I usually don't when you're here," she admitted quietly.

"Do you want me to stay on the phone until you fall back asleep?" John offered.

Zoe tried to wave it off with a laugh, but she failed. She had laid back down again and pulled the covers over her. "Thank you for the offer John, but it's not necessary."

"I'm sure it isn't. Play along, okay?"

Against her will, her eyes _were _half-closed- the events of the day finally taking its toll. "I'm not tired," she grumbled, and she heard his smile in response.

"Of course you aren't."

John began telling her about Bear's bath that morning. How Bear got both he and Harold wet when the Malinois decided he had had enough of the water and shook for all he was worth. They hadn't dried him yet. She missed Bear, she hadn't seen him since she and John played house. John's voice was comforting and calming; it was low, raspy and gentle.

She was definitely headed towards the land of nod, and after a miniscule moment of trying to fight it, she gave up. Falling asleep was easier. It was warm, and safe.

As she slid further into a serene slumber, she heard John's voice. "Sweet dreams, Zoe."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

Aaron Bryce fumbled in the dark for his cell phone on the nightstand and turned off the ringer before it could ring again. Squinting at the display, he grimaced then muttered, "damn it." Sitting up, he pushed the covers aside and got up, palming his phone.

In the kitchen, he started a pot of coffee before he redialed the number. Taking a deep breath, he said into the phone, "It's Bryce . . ."

It wouldn't do to irritate the man on the other end. He was powerful and far-reaching and could easily make him disappear at the drop of a hat.

"You said you'd take care of West . . ." the voice on the other end of the line sounded more than irritated, it sounded furious.

Bryce choked on a sip of coffee. He coughed. West? Evan West? "I did, in ninety seven," he responded. There is no way anyone could have survived three shots to the chest at such a close range. Evan West couldn't be alive, not after all this time.

"He was spotted at La Guardia. I sent some idiots after him, but he got away."

"Are you even sure it was West," Bryce asked skeptically.

"Saw him with my own eyes. You owe me Bryce; this should have been done a long time ago."

"I'll take care of it." Bryce grimaced.

Bryce hung up and picked up his coffee cup with a nervous hand. Fifteen years ago, he was employed as a collector for a loan shark; he'd then made a choice that earned him a very profitable profession as a contract killer. However, it left him well indebted to an influential and merciless man.

This was his chance to close the book on that first failed job. If Evan West was still alive, there might be a chance he still had the diskette. He might be able to earn his freedom by killing West and delivering the information his boss.

* * *

_He's alive._ Zoe's pulse thudded in her ears. When she was informed that he was killed, she never doubted it. He had been gone for six months without a word; why would she even question it? Things such as disappearing boyfriends with ties to the DEA didn't happen to regular people. The months following his disappearance were difficult ones for the then young and very much naive Zoe. She was positive that he wouldn't just abandon her without a word. She filed a missing persons report, did searches, tried to find him, but to no avail.

She cast a brief glance at Evan who was sitting at the table going through the files she had brought with her. Besides looking a bit older, Evan hadn't changed much. At just over six-feet, she had always had to tilt her head back to get a better look at his face. He had light brown hair with a smattering of grey at the temples, worn neat and short; blue eyes, with a straight nose and thin stern mouth. His smile though, had always stunned her. Without it, his eyes were unreadable. But his smile turned his eyes into a warm blue and his face boyish. _God,_ Zoe thought, _no wonder I fell hard._ He appeared lean and hard, but not gangly, definitely more solid than he had been the last time she had seen him.

"Which one of the cell heads are we looking at," John asked. They were in the living room of the safe house. Evan was sitting on one of the sofas and Zoe was standing by the window looking out at the street below.

"You're probably looking for the guy that runs that last cell; the one that helps with the legitimate business ventures, hiring of lobbyists, and overseas representation. Sandoval is only a low level drone, he set up the distribution center, but he's out in the open, everyone knows who and what he is. My gut doesn't tell me politician. I'm leaning towards an attorney or accountant who knows the laws and is smart enough to keep his connections low key," Zoe said.

Zoe had filled them in on information that Sarah Ann had been able to find out. These were things that Evan already knew and that Harold could have easily found out, but going through it again might help determine who wanted Evan dead.

The Mendoza Cartel was formed by the Mendoza brothers. Coming from a higher social background than most other traffickers, they earned the moniker The Gentlemen. They originally started as kidnappers, usually for ransom to help fund their drug trafficking empire. They first worked with trafficking marijuana, but because it had a low profit rate, they shifted their focus to cocaine.

The Cartel organized itself into multiple cells. Each operated independently, but report to a manager, sometimes managers, who then reported back to the Cartel in Columbia. In the early nineties the Cartel sent Aldo Sandoval to SouthBeach and then to New York City to establish distribution centers.

The Mendoza Cartel was unique in that it had three distinct cells: The Narco-Trafficking cell was the group that controlled the processing labs, shipping methods, and routes. In charge of discipline and the bribery of necessary officials, military or police was the Security cell. And finally, the last cell was in charge of the financial and legal aspects. That cell was responsible for making contact and assuring the cooperation of the government money-laundering, legal representation.

"The money guy, damn it," Evan replied and continued to explain. "Obviously we knew there had to be a money guy but we could never pin point who he was. It makes sense that they needed to heavily invest in legitimate business ventures as well as front companies to mask the money in order to launder the money. It's believed that the Mendoza Cartel was grossing billions in annual revenue from the US alone. I couldn't make it high enough in the food chain to meet this guy."

"How long were you under cover?" John asked.

"Three years, two in South Beach, another year here."

"And you have nothing on him? They obviously think you know something."

"Whatever we had, we lost the day I left New York. I had just received a disk from an informant the day before. I got a call from him, he said my cover was blown, that's when I had to leave," Evan replied risking a glance at Zoe.

Still standing by the window, there was no acknowledgement of whether or not she heard him.

"Unfortunately, when I sent guys back to get it, it was gone; they couldn't find it."

* * *

**August 1997**

"West, they know . . . you have to get out. Get that disk to your bosses then clear out." In the background, Evan could hear several gun shots. Not wasting another minute, Evan picked up the diskette his confidential informant had given him yesterday. Although not having enough time to go through the contents, Evan knew the information in it was crucial otherwise they wouldn't have shot at and most likely killed his CI. How his cover was blown, he would never know.

_God, why now,_ he thought. He had been on cloud nine the day before when he finally obtained the diskette from his confidential informant. The last three years of undercover work was finally coming to an end. He could finally be with Zoe without hiding anything. He was going to ask her to marry him. Evan had had it all planned, dinner at home, her favorite bottle of wine, a god-awful pink teddy bear that had an engagement ring attached to it and when she pressed his belly, he would say something totally cheesy. She would hate the gaudiness of the bear, but would think it was funny.

Quickly he moved down the street several blocks from his apartment. His attention more on those behind him than what was in front of him. Rounding the corner at full speed, he glanced off the edge of a building and bounced off against a nearby dumpster, tearing his pant leg as well as the skin on his leg on the exposed metal rim, Evan fell hard to the ground.

With much aggravation, Evan pulled himself to his feet, refusing to give into the blood or pain radiating from his injured leg. He was determined to get to safety before his pursuer caught up with him. However, after several steps, his leg muscles protested against the movement and brought him back down again. He tried to pull himself closer to the dumpster to take cover, but the movement was futile.

Evan heard thumping footsteps approaching then stopping close to where he was hidden. He looked up into the eyes of his pursuer holding a gun on him. Feeling rather then hearing the pop of the gun, he looked down at his shirt. The points of impact were immediately saturated with blood. Fighting for consciousness, he heard several more shots then everything faded to black; the pink teddy bear forgotten behind the dumpster.

* * *

**August 1997**

"Suspect is heading west, keep on him Beecher!" The voice came through loudly over the radio.

"I'm riding him into the alley on 42nd, it's a dead end, he'll have nowhere to go," Officer Cal Beecher replied into his radio as he was in pursuit of their suspect. His heart beat a steady staccato as he ran his breath came in short and fast. The suspect turned down the alley on 42nd, Beecher in hot pursuit, felt triumphant. When he was just behind him, he leapt, his momentum propelling them both to the ground. They rolled together for a bit until they were stopped suddenly by the dumpster.

"Hey dumbass," Officer Beecher ground out as he held him down, "what's up with making me chase your ass down, man . . ." He stood their suspect up and immediately cuffed him.

His partner finally caught up to them. "Look at you, a regular Michael Johnson," he ribbed Cal. "Fastest man or was that Donovan Bailey; either way, good job hoofing it Cal!"

"Thanks man," Cal replied. Brushing himself off, he caught sight of something pink by the dumpster. Picking it up, he had to smile to himself as he pressed the bear's belly.

"Jesus, the cheesiness of some people in love. . ." Someone is going to come looking for it sometime, given the size of the rock that was attached.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

**2012**

For the first time in his life, Evan West felt scared and helpless. He looked at John and Zoe with a parent's frustration and fear. "Jacob." He managed to get the word out. "It's Jacob."

John silently cursed. "What happened?"

"Arthur and Leah . . . Jacob is gone. They haven't been able to find him." Evan was pacing the living room of the safe house. "It has to be Sandoval or the guy he works for, but who is he damn it."

"That's our best guess. We have to play this smart if we want to get him back," John said trying to keep Evan's hopes up.

"What do you mean?" Evan asked fiercely. "We will get him back. I won't let anything happen to my son."

"How long has he been gone?"

"A few hours," Evan replied as he started to pace again, running his hands through his hair.

"You should be hearing from them soon, then."

"Damn it, I should have been there to keep him safe, John. I was given a second chance to be with my son without limitations and I blew it. I'll do anything to keep those bastards from –" He drew in a deep breath and struggled for composure. "But I won't let them call all the shots, or I'll never get Jacob back. I need to have something to bargain . . ."

"They are going to want you, Evan," John said grimly. "And that is not an option."

"What else do I have to trade, John?"

"There is always something to trade," Zoe said.

"Easy enough for you to say, he's not your son," Evan said harshly, jumping as his phone rang.

"Hello," Evan answered clicking the phone over to speaker so everyone could hear.

"Mr. West, it's wonderful to finally talk to you. I must say, the last time I saw you, you had three fresh bullet wounds in your chest." the voice with a distinctive Boston accent said.

"Who is this? Where's my son?" Evan demanded.

"I'm tempted to keep you in suspense, but that would be cruel," the voice taunted.

Neither John nor Evan noticed how still Zoe had gotten.

"Is he alive?" Evan demanded.

"You've been out of the game too long Mr. DEA man. Losing your cool? I never destroy a bargaining chip before it's been used. That would be foolish."

Zoe moved from the window towards the couch, listening to the man on the phone. John finally noticed her ashen pallor.

"What do you want?" Evan asked.

"I want you dead, like you should have been years ago."

Sitting on the couch, Zoe couldn't believe what she was hearing; after all this time.

_That voice, I know that voice._

"Fine, arrange a place to meet, let my son go, and I'll come with you willingly."

"Evan – " Zoe interrupted.

He silenced her with a look, she'd seen many a time in the past.

"If it were only that easy; I've decided to make you sweat a little bit more." The voice paused. "I want that diskette."

"I don't have it; it was lost when you shot me." Evan fought to keep the panic from his voice.

"That's not my problem, I know it's out there, you just have to find it."

"But . . ."

"West, are you willing to lose another child over this diskette?"

Zoe's eyes shut her head dropping to her hands as shook it from side to side as if she could wish those words away.

"What do you mean another child?" Evan demanded, confused. "I only have one son, and you have him."

"You mean you didn't know that you left your honey in the family way?" The man on the other end laughed.

"What? Who are you talking about? I don't have another child."

"That Zoe, she was one tough nut to crack. You should try to hook up with her again. Seen her around town, and she's looking pretty fine. She obviously got her girlish figure back. I'll be in touch."

* * *

**February 1998**

There had to be better ways to die; but never a good time.

She certainly wouldn't have chosen to die in her own apartment amid ripped couch cushions and broken furniture; the living daylights being beat out of her. Lying on her side with her knees clutched to her chest, she tried one more time to reason with him.

He had been asking her for the last several hours about some files Evan had, but she had told him the same thing over and over again, she didn't know. She wasn't sure how much more she could take. He had been beating her for the past two hours asking her the same questions. Where are the files, where did Evan hide them, who gave them to Evan?

"I don't kn-know anything . . . pl-please . . . I really d-don't know who or-or what you're tal-talking about."

He came over to where she was lying and lifted her head up by her hair. "Talking was the last thing on West's mind when he was with you eh? Can't blame him, with a beautiful woman like you, I wouldn't waste my time talking."

She heard him step away from her and it sounded as if he was on the phone. "She doesn't know anything. Believe me, in the condition she's in, she would have broken by now. . . I don't think that's necessary. Yes sir. I'll take care of it."

"Goodbye Miss Morgan. Stay out of trouble okay? Oh and next time, make sure your boyfriend isn't with the DEA. It will be much safer for you," the man said and left.

After a few minutes, Zoe realized that she was finally by herself. The man was gone, she was alone. Crawling over to the phone, ignoring the pain, she called the only friend she had. "Jaime?"

"Zoe? Hon, what's wrong?"

She felt her stomach cramp, the pain too intense. Her hands immediately went to rest on her belly. _No, please God, no. _She looked down and saw more blood. "Please come, there's so much blood, it hurts."

Zoe curled into a ball as she tried to fight the pain. "No," she cried over and over. She couldn't remember the last time she prayed, but she did that day. Praying to whatever deity was listening. As the pain got worse, she realized no one was listening. She lay on the floor for what felt like hours, until Jamie came, then the ambulance.

* * *

**2012**

Zoe blinked her eyes. She had to tell him, Evan. This was a conversation she had never thought would come. To talk about what happened would be reliving every terror filled minute. Even though she knew that the knowledge would dump unnecessary guilt on Evan, it would help him understand what he was up against. That the sadist that had his son would stop at nothing to get what he thought Evan had.

Evan crossed to where Zoe was seated on the couch in two long strides. Kneeling down in front of her, he took her hands in his. "Tell me, Zoe."

Shutting her eyes once more, she took a deep breath to brace herself. "When I found out I was pregnant, I was shocked, ecstatic, scared out of my mind." She rubbed her temple trying to make the threatening migraine to go away. "That was the same day you disappeared. After a few weeks and you didn't come back, I had to make a choice." Taking a break from law school and the firm was her only option at the time because in her condition, she didn't think she would be able to handle the most difficult year of law school, plus an almost full time job with a law firm that focused on billable hours.

"Was it the right choice? Who knows? At the time I felt that it was the best thing for the baby." _The baby._ Not one day had gone by that she didn't feel the pain of that loss. Her chance at happiness was taken away by a sadist who stopped at nothing, even beating pregnant women, to get what he was paid to do.

Zoe's confession punched Evan right in the gut, adding to his guilt and rage at the choices he had made. "I'm sorry, Zoe." He had hurt her by leaving. He knew because leaving her had hurt him as well; a pain that he relived every day since. Even his marriage to his ex-wife and the birth of his son didn't tamper the pain. He'd never understood the meaning of the word alone until he spent the last fifteen years without her.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you Zoe. And I'm sorry I left," Evan said bleakly.

"Evan . . ." Zoe started, not really knowing what to say. An added crack appeared in her carefully crafted façade, a slight tremble of her lower lip. She fought the pain that was slowly creeping in by catching the faithless lip between her teeth. _Hold on. Keep control_. She told herself.

"I did what I did because I thought it would keep you safe, but it didn't. And it cost us our baby." Passing a hand over his face, Evan looked as if he'd aged a decade in just the last few minutes.

Her resolve fortified, she pushed away from Evan, putting some distance between them. "You have to focus on Jacob, Evan. Where did you hide that diskette?"

"It's not that I don't remember where I hid it, it's that where I hid it is gone. The guys I sent to retrieve it said there wasn't anything in the alley where I got shot." His DEA contact had gotten to him within minutes of his shooting. He had woken up in a hospital the next day and immediately asked about the diskette. "My partner checked and he couldn't find that hideous pink bear anywhere . . ."


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Ignore that first review of this chapter from myself: I was having issues with my on my laptop and I couldn't see things the way I wanted, and was testing something and oops, there you have it . . .

* * *

**Chapter 6:**

Zoe arrived at the small house that held so much of her fond memories. Letting herself in, she was accosted immediately by a certain pint-sized tornado.

"Zoe!" Katie bounded down the stairs and jumped into Zoe's arms.

"Hi, Sweet pea. I just came for a quick visit. Is your grandma here?"

"In the kitchen," Katie replied leading the way. As she entered the kitchen, Zoe saw an older woman standing by the oven, her blue eyes bright with surprise and delight. "Zoe! I didn't know you were coming today." She walked over to Zoe and gave a motherly hug. Zoe couldn't help but sink in to her warmth. As Maggie started to pull away, Zoe held her tighter, tears pricking her eyes.

"Hey, what's this?" Maggie took Zoe's face into her hands. "Honey, tell me what's wrong?" Maggie hardly ever saw this vulnerable side of Zoe. She was always such a fighter and worked hard to keep things intact and her feelings hidden. The daughter of her heart was in pain and she wasn't sure how she could help her.

"Oh Maggie," Zoe blew a breath out. This wasn't the time to fall apart, Zoe told herself. She had to keep it together a few more hours. "I'm sorry for coming without calling first, I just, needed that . . ."

"Zoe, you know this is as much your home as it is ours. You don't have to apologize for anything." Maggie squeezed both of Zoe's hands. "Now, tell me what you need. . . "

"Do you still have my things, from Law School?"

"Of course, it's up in the attic."

* * *

**February, 1998**

Zoe was lying on her side curled up with her knees to her chest. It had been two days since she was admitted to the hospital. All she wanted to do was crawl under a rock and not see anyone.

"Zoe, Officer Beecher is here to talk to you," Jaime rubbed her friend's back. "He's not here to ask any more questions about the attack. He just has something he thinks you might want."

Zoe continued to lie on her side as if she didn't hear anything.

"Ma'am, I found this a few months ago and I think it was meant for you," the officer said quietly as he laid a huge pink bear next to her on the bed.

Slowly, she raised her eyes to the pink stuffed bear. He looked like Milo's transvestite big brother, his much bigger brother. Catching a glint somewhere underneath the bear's arm, she reached over and found a ring; an engagement ring.

Tears started to flow as the officer stated, "Ma'am, if you press the bear's belly, it says something."

Tentatively, Zoe took the bear and pressed its belly, "Zoe Morgan, I love you, will you be my wife," the bear asked in Evan's voice. Staring at the bear, unable to say anything, she felt the hot wet sting of tears on her cheeks. The tears turned into sobs before she could control them. Pressing her face against the softness of the bear, she tucked her legs even closer to her chest. The force of her sobs shook her entire body but she barely felt it.

The feelings rushed to the surface. Pain. Anger. Sadness. She threw the bear across the room shocking both Jamie and the officer.

"Officer Beecher, thank you so much for stopping by and for bringing this. I'm sure once she gets over this, she'll thank you," Jaime said as she shook the officer's hand and ushered him out. Zoe felt as if she would never ever get over this.

* * *

**2012:**

**"**What have we got," Zoe asked, looking over Sarah Ann's shoulder.

"It's password protected, but I can get around that no problem." Sarah Ann said furiously typing away on her keyboard. After a few seconds of nothing happening on the screen, a folder popped up on the screen with a series of files attached.

"Damn it, they're encrypted," Sarah Ann said. "Finding the correct algorithm that was used to encrypt the files will take some time, unless you know a wicked awesome hacker that's been around the block a few times. I was like eight when this was encrypted and as you know I was slaving away at Miss Maggie's dance studio. I hadn't discovered computers yet."

Zoe immediately dialed a number of a wicked awesome hacker, "Harold, I need your help."

* * *

With nothing for her to do but wait, Zoe wandered onto the balcony of the safe house. She took a deep, slow breath of air before she sank to the floor. It's a good thing she had changed into the appropriate attire to sit on the ground with; jeans, shirt, boots. No need for her usual armor of haute couture and stilettos. It was cool, but she needed the fresh air.

"May I sit with you?"

Zoe looked up to see Evan standing by the doorway. "I thought you were going to go through the Mendoza intel with Harold see if you can figure out who we're dealing with."

"Harold has it covered, he doesn't need me to nod my head and agree with him." He dropped down next to her and leaned back against the wall.

"Zoe, I'm not sure you talking to Bryce is such a good idea," Evan said concern tinged his voice.

"In my line of work, to make an effective trade, you have to find something they want more. My guess is that Bryce wants that disk more than he wants your life," Zoe explained. Dealing with the brokering of information, she knew that in order to be good at what she did, she always had to find information someone wanted more than what was being traded.

"I realize that, but I don't want you anywhere close to Bryce, given what he did to you before," Evan said gently cupping the back of her head.

"Evan, you doing the exchange is a suicide mission, John is just too threatening. My doing it makes the most sense. He won't consider me a threat given that he used me as a punching bag in the past. He may think I'm a bitch, but he won't consider me a true threat."

Sighing, Evan had to agree it made some semblance of crazy sense. He hated that she was putting herself in potential danger for him.

Shrugging his shoulders he suggested. "So, I thought we could talk, catch up, to clarify some things."

"Evan," Zoe sighed. "There's really not much . . ."

"Please?" he asked, smiling at her.

Zoe had to make a conscious effort to not to let that smile of his affect her. He had done so many times in the past he could charm the pants off a nun without much effort.

"So, what are you doing now?" Zoe asked giving in to his request.

"Investments," he replied slightly smirking.

Zoe stifled a laugh. "Seriously? Math skills, you didn't have. For you to be figuring out ROI's, ROE's, EBITDA, bps, balance sheets, profit/loss. The statistics and analytics alone would have driven you insane."

"I know right? What about you?" Evan asked as he stared at Zoe. There had been so much sadness and loss in her life. He hated what his silence and duplicity had done to her, understanding that because of that one choice on his part, her life had altered its course unequivocally.

"A little bit of this, a little bit of that. Hard to describe, but in a nutshell I do risk management. I think John calls me a Fixer; a description I'm not too enamored with. It makes me sound like Luis with his Fix-it shop on Sesame Street," she responded in a self-deprecating manner.

"It fits though. You fix problems. You're helping me fix this mess of my life."

She nodded, then reached out and briefly squeezed his arm in reassurance, "We'll get Jacob back. John and Harold are good at what they do."

"What exactly do they do, how do they do it?" He asked his eyes full of questions.

"I don't ask, they don't tell. I'm just a beneficiary of their services." Though she knew what John and Harold did, it was her choice not to push for more information. If she didn't know, then she couldn't betray them inadvertently or not.

"Really? Who wanted you dead?"

"Not important; John came and saved the day."

He nodded, then reached out and took one of her hands in his, holding it gently, his thumb rubbing her skin lightly. They sat like that for several long minutes, not looking at each other.

"Did you ever marry? Have those kids you wanted?"

With a twinge of sadness, she just shook her head. "There was never the right person or the right time."

"What about now; anyone special?"

"What is this Evan, speed dating?"

"I want to know if you're happy Zoe, that's all. I want you to be happy. After everything I've put you through, I just . . . I don't know feel responsible."

"Oh Jesus; you are not responsible for my happiness. Get over yourself. You men, I swear . . ."

"No, seriously . . . " Evan said taking her face in his hands. "When, not if, but when I get Jacob back, he and I are going back home to California, I want to know that you're happy because you deserve it. Okay? That's all."

When she nodded faintly, Evan leaned in grasping the back of her head and pulled her close, his lips met hers for just a moment, gently, a reminder of what they meant to each other.

At a soft cough, Evan and Zoe pulled apart like guilty teenagers. John was standing at the doorway holding Evan's phone. "It's him."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

They found out through Finch that the man who had Jacob was Aaron Bryce. Though his occupation was listed as a contractor; no one was fooled. Bryce was a killer for hire. They weren't able to find any connections to the Mendoza Cartel, at least any direct ones. But Sarah Ann and Harold were getting close to decrypting the diskette. They just needed to buy more time.

* * *

"I might agree to substitute the disk for the kid," Bryce warily said to Zoe. "But I want West, too."

"You won't get West," Zoe said flatly. "That boy needs his father, he just lost his mother. He knows nothing of what's on the disk."

"You could be lying to me. There could be nothing on that diskette."

"But you're worried and want to be reassured. This would give it to you. Look, you got to Evan before he had a chance to even look at the file. He was in the hospital for days before they even realized they didn't have that disk."

Silence. "And why can't I have that disk now?"

"Do you think getting to that storage unit is easy? It's right at rush hour and it's a little more than an hour and a half away. It will take my guy three hours at least to get there and back. That's not even factoring in the traffic. Set up a meeting anytime after that, and I'll put it in your hands." She paused. "Or you could let me meet up with your boss, after you release Jacob."

Bryce scoffed at the suggestion. "Do you think I'd be stupid enough to do that? Besides, I'll have to look at the disk to make sure you aren't lying to me."

"Oh, you have a computer that can actually read a diskette from 1997? Good luck with that."

"You think I'm trying to pull a fast one?" Bryce asked mockingly.

"No, but I don't want one hair on Jacob's head harmed. He shouldn't have to go through this, he's only eight. You set up a meeting, somewhere in the open, just you. I'll make sure I come alone too. Once Jacob is away from you, I'll give you the diskette."

"Just bring it to me."

"Where?"

"I'll call you in three hours with a location, be ready to go then." He hung up.

Zoe drew a deep breath and pressed the disconnect button. Up to the last minute, she hadn't been sure he would go along with it. There was still a possibility that this plan of hers wouldn't work, but at least it would keep Jacob safe for another few hours.

* * *

"John, put those away," Zoe said as made a shooing motion at John.

"Zoe, you need protection," John insisted laying two guns on the table.

"John, I do not need a Glock 26 or a Smith and Wesson M&P Compact 9mm, okay?" John cocked a brow surprised she actually knew the kind of guns they were on sight.

"Zoe . . ." John warned with a look of upright determination.

"No, John. Christ, I refuse to risk shooting that damn thing and accidentally hitting Jacob," she said waspishly.

"Fine, then take this . . . " he pulled another item from his equipment bag and put in on the table. He folded his arms and issued a challenge with his intense stare.

Zoe set her jaw and raised an eyebrow. "Where the hell am I supposed to hide that thing?"

John gave her that look that said he didn't care where she hid it.

Sighing, she gave in with a roll of her eyes. "Fine."

Looking around to make sure Evan was otherwise occupied; John reached out and grasped her hand. Cupping her cheek, he commanded softly, "Please . . . Be careful."

Taking a deep fortifying breath, she nodded. He nodded in return and started to pack away the guns she refused to take with her.

Placing a tentative hand on his arm, "John, about the . . ." she motioned awkwardly towards the balcony.

He shook his head. "I know it didn't mean anything." At her curious look, he continued, "You weren't mewing."

"MEW . . . like a kitten?" She asked full of righteous indignation, "I most certainly do not . . . MEW, who uses that word anyway?" She continued hands on her hips as she stood in his path.

His heart stopping grin momentarily blinded her as he moved quickly. Zoe knew John was fast on his feet yet she was still surprised how quickly he had her flat against the wall with her hands pinned above her head. Without preamble, he proceeded to give her a toe-curling kiss which rendered her mind completely blank.

"Hey!" Evan called from the other side of the wall. "What the hell is that sound? Sounds like a stuck pig."

With a huff, Zoe shoved John aside. "Smart-ass."

Giving her another heart stopping grin, he slowly turned around to pick up his equipment bag, but not before he whispered in her ear. "See? At least I said mew. Evan thinks you sound like a pig."

* * *

Bryce called when Zoe was twenty minutes away from her destination. "Where are you now, Miz Morgan?"

"Corner of forty-fifth and Grand." Zoe could tell he was leading her towards a section of New York that was mostly abandoned buildings.

"Turn east on the next street you get to and head towards the end of the road." He hung up.

Zoe drew in a deep breath. She had to be calm and in control. Jacob's life depended on it. The tension in Zoe had been building for the past several days. She wasn't sure how much longer she could keep her fragile walls up.

Bryce called her one last time as she reached the end of the road. He told her to wait for him and that he was close.

* * *

"John, I've got Miss Morgan's signal" Finch's voice was tense. "She's about ten minutes to the south of you by the abandoned warehouses. Satellite photos show her vehicle stopped and another vehicle approaching. The vehicle contains what appear to be a driver as well as a child in the back seat."

"Are there any other men in the vicinity?"

"None, it seems Mr. Bryce is a man of his word."

"That or he doesn't take Zoe seriously," John responded. He didn't like Zoe going in by herself unarmed and unable to defend herself, but she had refused to bring a gun. This was a situation he couldn't control and he didn't like it.

* * *

Zoe tensed as she saw the car driving toward her. The black four door sedan pulled in front of her blocking the only way out of the road. As a man got out and crossed in front of the car, she could see a small shape in the back seat. The man's physique was familiar to her. She had never known what her assailant looked like except that his eyes were an icy green hue, he had been wearing a ski mask. Fair wavy hair, handsome some would say, but a sadist none the less. He had his gun trained on her.

"Miz Morgan, it's so good to see you again." He motioned with his hand indicating that he wanted to search her.

She felt his eyes on her as she stretched her arms out to her sides parallel to the ground. He walked around her assessing her body through her clothes, as if she were just a piece of meat. She then felt his hands on her. Her breasts, between her legs, painful at times, probing, and demeaning. But she took it knowing this was the only way she could get to Jacob.

"You can stop searching, its pretty obvious I'm unarmed and I'm not wearing a wire." Zoe said her voice had a deceivingly bored tone to it.

His hands froze for a second then he pulled her to him from behind, his free hand tightened painfully on her breast. "Oh, you're no fun. Besides, I just wanted to check out what I missed out on years ago. I was too busy beating the crap out of you to notice your . . . " His eyes ran the length of her body once more. ". . . finer attributes."

_Don't show pain or weakness_, Zoe thought. _He would like it too much._

He gave her breast one more painful squeeze then grabbed her by the arm and turned her to face him. "Do you have the diskette?"

Staring at him straight in the eye, she quirked her lip up and said, "Yes, but I'm not giving it to you until Jacob is safe in my car. And please, put the gun away, you already know I'm not hiding anything."

Zoe held her breath as Bryce gave her one more assessing glance, then tucked the gun behind him. He motioned for Jacob to come out of the car.

Zoe smiled at Jacob reassuringly as she held her hand out. "Hi Jacob, I'm a friend of your daddy's, are you ready to go see him?"

Jacob nodded as he tentatively reached for her hand. Jacob looked exactly as she imagined her little boy would have looked like at that age had he lived. Tears threatened, but she pushed them down. He had light brown almost blond hair with big blue eyes, he was beautiful.

She led him to the back of her car, and settled him into the back seat. She ran her left hand over his hair as her right reached for the diskette she had stashed in the back seat pocket as well as a laptop. "You'll be with your daddy soon, Jacob. I promise."

* * *

John had just reached the back of the abandoned warehouse in time to see Zoe lead Jacob to her car. "Finch, Zoe has Jacob in the car. What's the ETA on Carter and Fusco?"

"They are about twenty minutes out, but John, I see another car coming up the street."

"What?" John silently swore. "And it's not Carter and Fusco?"

"No," Finch replied.

"Damn it, that car is going to spook him," John's pulse thudded in his ears as he watched what he had feared would happen. Zoe was at the mercy of a man who had a gun to her head.

* * *

Hearing the unmistakable sound of a vehicle approaching, Bryce looked up, an angry expression on his face. "You said alone!" He grabbed her, spun her around and clamped an arm around her throat. Then pulled his gun and pressed it to her temple.

Zoe froze, panic coursing through her veins. "No, I swear, I don't know who that is." They both stared at the car coming towards them. But the car never came all the way in. It stopped several yards away then backed up and made a u-turn.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Zoe stomped on his foot and immediately swung to face him. As his momentum was carrying him forward, she grabbed a hold of his shirt by his shoulders pulling his upper body right into her rising knee getting him right in the solar plexus. As he doubled over, the wind knocked out of him, she used her elbow to come down hard on the back of his neck, knocking him completely to the ground. Grabbing the tazer gun she had stashed at the back of her waistband when she led Jacob into the car, she immediately zapped Bryce. She backed away as she heard running footsteps and more approaching vehicles. She watched almost in fascination as Bryce's body continued to twitch and jolt.

She knelt down by the twitching body and whispered, "Never underestimate a woman with a grudge. I learned a few things from my new boyfriend by the way."

* * *

A joint taskforce between the DEA and NYPD had been created to analyze the information contained in the diskette that was anonymously sent to Detective Cal Beecher of the NYPD.

Discovering the identity of the Finance and Legal cell head wasn't difficult when one knew what to look for. Once the files on the diskette were decrypted and meticulously analyzed, it was easy enough to identify most of the major players of the Mendoza Cartel. Evan's confidential informant was never identified and was thought to have perished the day Evan left New York. The files on the diskette had provided the details of the money laundering operations and much more.

The laundering operation started and evolved with Johann Rodriguez, a well known American philanthropist but also a high ranking lieutenant in the Mendoza Cartel securing the position of Chairman of the Board of Banco Americas in New York. The bank was believed to have been used to launder funds for the Cartel. Cartel members were permitted, through their affiliation with the Rodriguez, to overdraft the accounts and take out loans without repayment. These funds were then used to purchase legitimate businesses which in turn made more money for the Cartel. It was believed that the Cartel was grossing upwards of about five billion dollars in annual revenue in the United States alone.

Within two hours of Johann Rodriguez' exposure, an unspeakable number of men who were members of various law enforcement agencies found themselves on the wrong side of the law. All had been identified as taking orders from Rodriguez and a few members of Congress. No one was particularly surprised by the discovery. The Cartel was a business after all, and like most businesses, the Cartel had a politician or two in its clutches.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:**

**July 1997**

**"**Come on, Zoe, give, just tell me one," he asked.

She stared at him over the textbook of Torts she had been skimming for an exam the next day. She shook her head. "I don't have time for dreams or fantasies," she grumbled, obviously hedging. She had never believed in dreams before, at least, until she had met him.

"You're such a liar," he whispered as he took her book and tossed it on the floor and pulled her into his arms.

She bit her lip, with a thought that his question was bordering on ridiculous. "Fine, X or G rated?" she asked as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"Let's keep it simple, I already know what x-rated fantasies you have. . ." he said as he trailed his finger down her chest. "Whatever you want to tell me, something you haven't told anyone, even Jaime."

"Oooh, that's a tough one, Jamie knows everything about me. In fact, she knows more about my x-rated fantasies than you do," Zoe teased; hitting her mark when she looked up and saw the wide-eyed, shocked at the same time hopeful look on his face. "And no. No threesomes. I'm keeping Jamie to myself."

"Come on, tell me, or I'm going to have to resort to some torture . . ." he said as he stuck his finger up and wiggled it, ". . . I can tickle with the best of them, even Elmo doesn't stand a chance."

_This is ridiculous_, she thought. Taking a deep breath, she admitted. "I've always dreamed of having a home, a family; the American dream, maybe a puppy even. Some place homey, but not in the 'burbs."

Evan gave her a smile that temporarily stopped her heart. "Tell me more," he asked too sweetly she couldn't say no.

"I don't know," she started, "I dream of happily ever after," she said smiling wistfully. "I want that when I come home, I know someone will be there, happy to see me."

She watched his face as a look of recognition came over him. "You want kids." He knew her all to well. In the six short months they had spent together, he knew everything about her.

She looked down, her cheeks turning pink. "Someday," she whispered. "I want someone to love me, no matter what I do wrong."

Evan pressed his lips against her ear. "I do."

* * *

**2012**

"Hey," Zoe said warmly as she entered the safe house.

"Hey," Evan replied softly, looking down at her.

He stretched his hand out to her; she took it and joined him on the window looking out into the night. They stood in shared silence as he continued holding her hand, gently rubbing his thumb across her skin. After a while, Evan smiled a sad smile and spoke.

"I don't suppose you'd consider . . . "

Just as poignantly she smiled and he sighed. She turned to him and tenderly cupped his cheek; she looked directly into his eyes and said, "My life, what little of it you've seen in the past few days may not seem like much." Blowing a breath out, she continued. "But it's my life. The life I want to lead today. There are so many things I can't or won't leave behind." Immediately she thought of Katie, the Wilsons and especially John. They became the family she had dreamed about. It may not be a family in the traditional sense, but it was hers; unique in every way.

He agreed and shut his eyes. She memorized every inch of his gorgeous face, every groove and outline then continued, "You have your son, safe. Think about him and put him first." Smiling she added, "You're going to be together full time now, you and Jacob have each other."

Shaking his head, Evan sighed and sadly said, "I'm sorry about our son. I wish I could have been here for you."

Putting two fingers on his lips, she shushed him softly. "It's okay. For the longest time I was so angry. At you, at life, at whatever powers that be that kept throwing these maddening curve balls at me." She smiled ruefully.

"But I realized that those curve balls made me the person I am now. I'm a strong person, Evan. I'm a good person. People still think I'm a bitch, but you know what? It doesn't matter anymore." She put a hand to her chest, "Inside, I know who I am. I may regret the pain and the loss, but I don't ever regret the decisions I've made. Not one."

Turning even more serious he asked, "But are you happy?"

Zoe gave a dazzling smile Evan had rarely seen. "I can honestly say yes. Yes, I'm happy, I have people I care about around me and I know they care about me."

"You still can't say it, can you?" Evan asked.

"Say what?" Zoe asked confused.

"Love. When we were together, you never said it except to wish for it."

"Just because I didn't say it, it doesn't mean I didn't feel it." Evan should have known her well enough to understand that it wasn't what was said that mattered to her, but what was done. Love was just a word to Zoe. Words were sometimes just empty promises or meaningless lies and the words that did have value were invariably used against you.

Zoe paused for a bit, letting Evan absorb what she was saying. "This is a good thing for you and Jacob. I want good things for you too Evan, because I loved you."

The look Evan gave her was a combination of surprise, awe, happiness, and pain all at once. "I loved you too Zoe," he said.

Sadly, she thought that he hadn't loved her enough because he never came back.

* * *

They remained in silence as they drove to the small cemetery hidden away in a little known section of Yonkers. It was very peaceful there, she had chosen it years ago specifically for that purpose. Her hands moved protectively over her belly, a twinge surrounding the sensation of emptiness and loss.

She pointed to the right back corner of the cemetery. "He's over there."

Climbing out of the car, they walked, loosely holding hands towards the perfect spot for her perfect little boy. There was a simple headstone above the grave, marking it.

Kneeling next to the headstone, she traced his name with her fingers.

**John Joseph Morgan **

**Beloved Son **

**Born: February 17, 1998 **

**Died: February 17, 1998**

Her eyes darted to her companion. "Ironic isn't it? I always liked the name John. It sounded strong."

She wanted to thank John for taking her here. This was the best thing for her at the moment. Saying hello to the son she almost had. Leave it to John to know what she needed and when and to just let her be. No explanations necessary.

Her head rested on the cool surface of the headstone. "Hi Baby. It's your momma," she whispered, a single tear falling onto the headstone. "It's been awhile, I know. I'm sorry I couldn't keep you safe. I wish I could have seen you grow up to be a young man." Her eyes shut and she forced her tears back. "I wish I could have had more than a few hours with you."

She reached out a hand to John and was relieved when he took hers. "This is my friend John, Baby. I want you to watch over him for me okay? He's very special, and momma would be very sad if something happened to him."


End file.
